


Nevada

by humanedisaster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, M/M, steve and sam searching for bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:23:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanedisaster/pseuds/humanedisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had managed to track Bucky to Nevada. The trail went cold when they hit the border, but it was the closest they’d come since Sam had seen a flick of metallic fingers going around the corner in a crowded mall in Georgia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nevada

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little ficlet based off of [this prompt](http://babbleon.tumblr.com/post/81905121270/someone-should-write-a-story-based-on-these).
> 
> Unbeta'd, so tell me if you see any mistakes!

Steve had managed to track Bucky to Nevada. The trail went cold when they hit the border, but it was the closest they’d come since Sam had seen a flick of metallic fingers going around the corner in a crowded mall in Georgia.

He didn’t want to jinx his chances, but he felt close. The false leads they’d followed since Georgia, desperately chasing “Winter Soldier Fan Sightings” that Sam had found on something called an “internet forum” had all but killed his hopes for finding Bucky. He’d just about thrown in the towel until Sam had told him two days ago to come see something on his laptop.

They’d been held up in a hotel, a little “no-tell” as Sam called it that had something called “magic fingers” set up on both of the full sized beds. The blankets smelled like mothballs and bleach and the carpet scratched the bottom of Steve’s feet as he walked over to stand behind Sam.

It was a picture. Taken on a traffic camera of a mini van with a woman behind the wheel. A man was circled in red in the corner of the picture, slightly blurry and the caption on the picture left by a username of “theghostisreal” claimed the blurry man to be Bucky.

“Think it’s him?” Sam had asked, clicking a few keys on his laptop and making the picture bigger.

The man was dressed in a dirty hoodie and even dirtier jeans and generally looked homeless, but the greasy hair that fell in his face and the way he held his shoulders screamed _Bucky!_ at Steve.

“I know it.”

“Nevada it is, then.”

 

-

 

It had taken them two days to travel to Nevada, to the dust ball town that the picture had been taken in.

For the sake of looking for Bucky and knowing they’d no doubt have to ask the locals if they’d seen him, Sam had printed a picture of Bucky from the Smithsonian’s website on the Commandos.

After asking around for a few hours, a little old lady that Steve had met in the dairy isle of a small grocery said that a boy that “looks just like him, hair’s grown out a bit, but that looks just like Jim!” was working for her friend at a diner just outside town.

Steve yelled a thank you over his shoulder to the woman as he ran to catch up with Sam at the hardware store next door.

 

-

 

“I still think we should have scoped the place out for a few days before we just waltzed in,” Sam said, stirring creamer into his coffee.

Steve sighed, “I know your reservations, Sam, but Bucky’s not my enemy and I don’t plan on fighting him. Just talking.”

Sam picked up a piece of bacon. “You know what you’re going to say?”

“Not yet.” Steve sighed again and picked at a piece of toast. “I just can’t think of something to say.”

“Better think harder, then.” Sam nodded towards the counter. “It appears our target just clocked in for his shift.”

Steve shifted in his set, moving so his back was to the wall not the back of the booth, one of his legs resting along the seat. He slowly turned his head to where Sam had nodded.

It was Bucky. Dark jeans, white tee-shirt, denim jacket, hair cut but longer than he’d kept it before, stubble on his cheeks a tad thicker than Steve was used to seeing it, but it was Bucky.

He shed his jacket and put it below the cash register, bringing an apron with a name tag up and over his head and tied it around his waist. He wasn’t doing anything remarkable, but Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away.

It was Bucky, a small smile on his face as he poured more coffee into the mug for the man sitting next to the cash register. It was Bucky, turning to pick a plate of pancakes to deliver them to the woman at the other end of the counter. It was Bucky, handing maple syrup over the counter to a little girl, proud smile on her face when he let it carry it back to the table where her parents were sitting.

The table on the other side of Sam. And Bucky’s eyes had followed the little girl.

He said something to the waitress next to him, a little old woman, who nodded and made a shooing motion.

Bucky came around the counter at sat in the bar stool across from their table.

“I know you.”


End file.
